


Shards and Snippets

by Lightlost713



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Crack, Humor, Romance, whatever might pass through my brain at the time of writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightlost713/pseuds/Lightlost713
Summary: Drabbles and short stories about Laurence, Temeraire, and the flying peanut gallery that is Britain's Aerial Corp. Basically practice drafts until I can work up the nerve to write a full length story. Ratings will vary per chapter.





	1. A Warm Farewell in a Frigid Landscape

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, let's start off with some Laurence/Tharkay. This takes place sometime between Blood of Tyrants and League of Dragons.

Tharkay had never been in a more wretchedly cold place than Russia. He had been in his share of chilled climates throughout his travels, but there was something about a Russian winter that just seemed…sadistic. The cold seeped into one’s body with an almost vengeful alacrity. And yet, Tharkay would have given almost anything to remain in such a frigid land, if only to stay within the company of a certain captain. The trust and friendship, dare he even say affection, shown to him from Laurence, and Temeraire as well, seemed enough to sustain a man even in the most inhospitable conditions. And if there was an added incentive of pressing close to Laurence during their half-frozen flights over the Russian landscape, well, Tharkay supposed the weather wasn’t entirely vile.

Yet like most of his time spent with Laurence, it was over far too quickly. Summons from Maden would soon have Tharkay speeding back to Istanbul. He would once again be parted from those he…esteemed best. His own belongings, few that they were, already secured for the journey, he only lingered for a farewell from Laurence. Tharkay expected a firm clasp of hands; he expected a quiet but earnest regret for their parting; he expected that furrow to form between Laurence’s eyebrows that only seemed to appear whenever Tharkay took his leave of him. Tharkay relied on that furrow to remind him that no matter where he roamed in the world there would be at least one person to miss him.

And all those he received, along with a great amount of poorly concealed sulking from Temeraire, yet there was a strange light in Laurence’s eyes that accompanied his gaze.

“If it is not too forward of me, I hope that your business does not keep you in Istanbul long.” Laurence still gripped his hand. “I hope that you will find your way back to us soon. Though I’m sure the current weather is more an encouragement to stay away.”

Tharkay allowed himself a somewhat self-deprecating half grin. “Rest assured. There’s always a welcome incitement to return, no matter where your luck has landed you.”

Laurence tightened his hold on Tharkay’s hand. He stepped closer to him.

“I would feel safer in our parting if I made some assurances of your coming back to me.” He said, still moving closer.

“What more could you possibly give me that would make you certain of loyalty that is already entirely yours?” Tharkay asked breathlessly, because surely, he couldn’t mean…

“One that might result in my having a blackened eye or worse, if I have misconstrued.” Laurence murmured as he leaned forward.

_His lips are chapped._ That was the last coherent thought to flit through Tharkay’s mind as Laurence met him in a firm kiss. What focus Tharkay had left was quickly dedicated to molding his body to Laurence’s. He nibbled on the captain’s lips and was granted leave to plunder the warm mouth. And, oh, did he ever. Tharkay’s tongue met with a gentle coaxing as he tilted his head for better access. Trust Laurence to be ever so obliging, letting Tharkay take and take. Tharkay’s fingers threaded through blond hair, the better to tug and tousle; he’d make sure Laurence was properly disheveled. Laurence’s own hands were gripping Tharkay even tighter, his tongue now challenging Tharkay’s for dominance. Then he was pulling away; he left one last firm bite on Tharkay’s lower lip then parted.

They both breathed heavily into the frigid air. Tharkay was the first to regain some semblance of speech. “I would think that is more of an incentive to stay. And now I find parting to be near impossible.”

Laurence rested his forehead against his. “Your responsibilities call you to other locales. But rest assured that a happy homecoming awaits you _when_ you return.”

“Depend upon that.” Tharkay whispered. “I will find my way home to you.”


	2. Duck Season, Rabbit Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren and Sutton mess with Laurence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Crucible of Gold through Blood of Tyrants. Rated G.

**Brazil**

Sutton glanced dubiously at Warren. “Are you certain?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed by now.” Warren snorted as the two of them looked over the fire at their quarry. “It’s practically a tic of his”

The sprawling port of Rio lay below them, and gazing down upon it was Laurence. The younger captain was frowning at the dragon transports resting in harbor. 

With another conspiratorial look at Sutton, Warren raised his head and called. “We’ll have a time of it wresting those boats from the frogs.”

“A risk we must take nonetheless,” Laurence replied, turning from his observation. “To ensure a relative peace with the Tswana here. And Warren, those are ships not boats.”

“See?” Warren murmured. He smiled when he caught the glint in Sutton’s eye.

“Hmm”

**Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific**

“So,” Sutton pointed at a symbol Temeraire had scratched out for him. “This is Chinese for boat?”

Laurence looked over from his perch on the dragon’s foreleg. The man had taken refuge there after another grueling lesson in language and etiquette of the Imperial court forced upon him by Hammond.

He frowned slightly. “That is pronounced chuán, and it means ship, not boat.”

“You certain?” Sutton asked with a small smile; he did his best not to glance at Warren standing nearby. “I’m quite sure it’s the word for boat.”

“Ship.”

“Well let’s ask the expert.” Sutton turned to the watching Celestial. “What say you, Temeraire?”

The dragon puzzled over the two men then answered somewhat haltingly: “I do not believe they differentiate between the two. This symbol means both boat and ship, so far as I am aware.”

Laurence’s eye twitched. Sutton could hear Warren masking his laugh as a cough.

**Japan**

Warren had never seen Laurence look so…well, not quite Laurence. The posture was the same, as were the gestures, expressions and tone, and the man seemed to have no fear of Temeraire. And yet there was just something slightly off balanced; like an actor had been asked to perform the roll of William Laurence with a half-written script.

The man glanced from his study of Nagasaki as Warren approached.

“Captain…Warren?” He asked.

“Yes, and no need to fret about causing offense. There’s a fair many of us aviators to remember even with your head to rights.” Warren chuckled half-heartedly.

Laurence turned back to gaze out over the railing of the _Potentate._

“It is still a distance to China. I wonder at what other mischance might befall us.”

“Not to worry: this boat has managed to get us this far. She’ll manage further still.”

“Yes.” Laurence nodded. “Though it is a ship not a boat.”

And then he was turning away; drawn by a call from Temeraire.

“Well,” Warren sighed. “At least some bits are unchanged.”

**China**

“We’ll have a devil of a time round the Horn.” Sutton said, glaring down at the map.

The formation’s days were now filled in preparation for their journey to Portugal. Coupled with the readying of the Chinese forces to travel to Russia, the group of captains rarely found themselves with a moment to spare. And now they were bidding farewell to Laurence and his own motley crew.

“You’ll have an easier time of it than our crossing from South America.” Laurence said from where he was charting his own travels. “And a bit more room for the dragons as well.”

“Well if we’ve learned anything from that bit of sailing it’s that the _Potentate_ can bear a great deal of abuse.” Sutton grinned. “That boat is a credit to the Navy to be sure.”

Laurence didn’t even look up from his maps. “Yes, she is a _ship_ worthy of her name.”

“In truth, I’ve become rather fond of that boat.” Warren called over from inspecting Nitidus’ harness straps.

“Ship.” Laurence gave him a look not quite a glare.

Sutton chuckled under his breath.

“What a pity I’ll not have the chance to see this boat of yours.”

That had come from Mr. Tharkay; the recently rescued man was standing next to Laurence though his gaze kept flicking between Sutton and Warren.

Laurence cleared his throat. “Ah Tenzing, it is a ship not a boat.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Tharkay’s mouth. Sutton glanced at Warren who merely shrugged.

“Boat.” He said, idly stretching his bandaged fingers.

“Ship.” Laurence was frowning at him.

“Boat.”

“Ship.”

“Boat.”

“Ship.”

Tharkay smirked. “Ship.”

“Boat.” The reply was automatic, almost as if it was torn from Laurence’s lips.

He froze then, eyes wide and mouth open. Then he snapped it shut and looked to Sutton and Warren as if to confirm his blunder.

The two other captains merely stared in return. Sutton wasn’t sure he should laugh or send someone to look after Laurence; the man was beginning to turn rather green.

“Come, Will.” Tharkay wrapped an arm around the stunned captain’s shoulders. “Let us find some wine for consolation.”

“I-I meant…” Laurence stuttered.

“I know. I’m sure it is a fine ship.” As he led the disproportionately distraught man away, Tharkay turned back and mouthed: _I win_.  

Sutton could only salute the man. And when the two had walked out of earshot he heard Warren huff out a laugh.

“I suppose that’s put an end to it.” He sighed.  “Is there much of a difference between a ship and a boat?”

“I don’t bloody well know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if my Chinese boat/ship translation was incorrect; I used google translate.


	5. Snuggles Not Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An embrace to keep the chill at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another Laurence/Tharkay, short and sweet. Takes place during League of Dragons when they're camped out in that ice crevasse. Chapter rating G, maybe T.

“T-truly a remarkable bolt-hole.” Tharkay murmured from under their shared layers of cloth and oilskin. “I m-must say our accommodations are on par with our usual sojourns.”

Laurence would have liked to return in kind with a quip of his own, but he feared his speech would have been even more turbulent than his companion’s. And perhaps it would be best not to encourage the man to go off on one of his dry tangents, until he was warmer at least. Which considering how pale his companion’s normally tanned skin had become, wouldn’t be anytime in the immediate future.

Necessity overcame propriety and Laurence uncurled from his fetal position to reach for Tharkay. The man jerked back slightly. “Laurence, what are you doing?”

“Ensuring we both manage a few hours sleep.” He sighed, winding his arms around Tharkay’s shoulders as he pulled the suddenly stone-like man towards him. “I would’ve thought you’d approve of increasing our chances to see the dawn, Tenzing.”

“I believe you’d be quite dismayed of what I approve, Will.” Tharkay rasped, but he wrapped his arms around Laurence in return, burrowing his hands into the many layers that Laurence had donned.

A few moments of shuffling found them with their legs tangled together and Tharkay halfway on top of Laurence. They soon warmed, though Tharkay’s quivering persisted. Halfway dozing, Laurence rubbed a hand between the man’s shoulder blades, his face tucked against the side of Tharkay’s neck. The man always had such a pleasant smell, Laurence thought drowsily, earthy and rather dry. Much like Tharkay’s wit.

“W-will.” Tharkay shuddered as Laurence rubbed his cheek against Tharkay’s jaw. The scrape of stubble was rather comforting.

“Hmm sleep, dear one.” Laurence murmured.

And Tharkay trembled once more then clung tighter to Laurence, ensuring they were firmly wrapped around one another, before finally settling down. And Laurence found that the night’s icy fingers could not grasp them.  


End file.
